


Drunk In Love

by maebyrutherford (maeberutherford)



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drunkenness, F/M, Fluff, Inspired by Real Events, Mild Smut, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-04-12 08:05:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4471682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maeberutherford/pseuds/maebyrutherford
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen has a few too many after blowing off steam at the tavern. Inspired by something my husband actually said and did one morning. Thanks to alistairfeels on Tumblr for the suggestion to write this!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drunk In Love

“Oh, Maker, you feel so good! Your ass is so perfect, ah, ah, ah-”

“Shhh, someone will hear us!”

“Sorry! How can you stay so quiet, with my  _big fat_ cock inside you?”

He didn’t notice the mage rolling her eyes. “Lots of practice in the circle.”

“If all the mage girls look like you, I’m sorry I was never assigned to one.”

“Yeah yeah, now hurry up and fuck me with your ‘giant cock’!”

The templar took a moment to quiet himself and admire the view before resuming his pace, pounding erratically into the mage over a barrel behind Herald’s Rest and failing miserably to muffle his moans. She sighed and reached down to work on herself when they heard a commotion behind them. They froze, hoping whoever it was would move on.

“Well well, what do we ‘ave here? Looks like someone is having a lil’ fun tonight.”

“Is that who I think it is?” She hissed, pushing him away and frantically smoothing her robes down.

“Fuck!” The templar frantically pulled up his trousers, groaning at the sharp ache in his balls and stuffing his erection in his smalls.

“No, please,” Commander Cullen said, leaning unsteadily against the tavern. His armor was making an unholy grating sound against the stone wall, his hair was disheveled, his skin ruddy. “Don’t stop ‘n my account, I’ll leave. Just invest’gating the noise.”

“S-sorry, Commander, we were just, ah…” the templar started.

“No need to ‘splain, truly.” He swayed and took a step to catch himself. “Young love, beautiful thing. You know, I was like you two, once. I mean, I was you,” he pointed to the young templar, “and someone else was her.”

Clearly, he wasn’t leaving.

“Is he…drunk?” the young mage whispered to the templar, watching the Commander with incredulity.

“I think so. I’ve never seen him like this.”

“What’re you whispering ‘bout? Now, lemme tell you a story.” He spun around wildly, looking for something, then made a grabby hands gesture toward the couple. “Drink!”

The mage gave the templar a look that said “Should I?” and he shrugged, so she pulled a flask from her robes and passed it to Cullen.

He took a swig, then proceeded to empty the flask and and handed it back. “Thank you, m’dear. Mm, now, where was I? Oh yes – I was you, and someone else was her. We were in love. Forbidden!” He raised his finger in the air and leaned in closer to them, smiling knowingly. “Makes it all the shweeter, yes?”

They both nodded vigorously; anything to get him out of there.

“Course, we never got as far as you naughty kids, but had I the chance…” he chuckled to himself, stumbling. “Anyway, she went on to be the great Hero of Ferelden, and I went on to be me, the end.”

There was an awkward silence, then the mage spoke. “That’s a very, um, romantic story Commander, but we really should be getting back.”

“Can we walk you somewhere?” the templar offered. The last thing he wanted was to find out in the morning that the Commander of the Inquisition had taken a drunken spill down the stairs.

“Bah, I’m fine,” Cullen shooed him away, and in doing so lost his balance and fell forward. He would have likely bashed his face into the stone had the couple not caught him. They managed to get the Commander upright, each taking one of his arms around their shoulders.

“Alright, we’re taking you back to – um,” the mage paused, not sure how to broach the subject.

Cullen waved his hand in front of her face, trying to wink but shutting both eyes instead. “S’alright, I know everyone knows. To the Inquis-tor’s quarters, my good steed. Post haste!” He laughed at his own joke. “Get it? You’re the shhhteeds? I could ride you but that would be really awkward!” He chuckled while the mage and the templar guided him onward.

It was slow going, with the Commander frequently tripping over his feet and mumbling incoherently about love, and at one point something about how he could have been a champion boxer, but they finally made it to the Inquisitor’s quarters. Thankfully it was the wee hours of the morning and there were few people around to witness his walk of shame.

“Here we are, Commander. Will you be alright getting up the stairs?”

“Pfft, I’m not a babe, I can handle m’self.” Cullen planted a hand on the Inquisitor’s door for support and stared at them, struggling to focus. “What’re you two doing here this time o’ night? Shouldn’t you be in your barracks?”

The mage and the templar exchanged puzzled looks. “Yes sir, of course, we were, ah, just on our way. Good night, sir.”

***

Ingrid peered down from her book at her lover, still snoring softly beside her with his mouth open wide, a little dried drool in the corner of his mouth and vaguely reeking of booze. It was an off day, he clearly had a much needed night of fun with the boys. Though she had been awake for hours she didn’t want to disturb him. He still was adorably disheveled and rough, even with dark circles under his eyes and cracked lips from dehydration.

She lightly kissed him on the forehead and went back to her novel – Varric’s latest thriller, “The Spy of Skyhold” – when she felt him stir and slide an arm around her waist. She set the book down and turned, shuffling down to his level. His eyes were barely open but they sparkled when they met hers, enough to give her butterflies. He grinned sleepily, using his strength to pull her closer to him.

“Good morning,” she said, and his smile grew as he squeezed her even tighter, burying his face into her chest and curling his body all around hers.

“Mmm, the best morning,” his voice was muffled by her dressing gown. He wrapped his legs around hers and pulled those in too, shuddering while he hugged her.

“Okay, this is very cute but you don’t know your own strength!” She squealed.“You’re very affectionate today.”

“Sorry,” he said, still muffled, and he lessened his grip, running his free hand over her backside. She smoothed his hair back and he looked up at her in adoration. There was something…off about Cullen’s expression, something in his eyes, and then it dawned on her.

“Wait a minute,” she said, a laugh in her voice, “are you still drunk?”

He hesitated, still watching her, a smile spreading on his face. “No…I’m just…drunk in love.”

She laughed. “You  _are_  still drunk!”

“Maybe a little,” he croaked, rolling over onto his back, “I got carried away. Bull and his awful concoction. I feel much better than I anticipated, though I don’t recall anything after Bull and Dorian disappeared.”

She rose from the bed. “Ah, that bad, eh? Trust me, it will hit you hard soon, and you’ll wish you were dead. Here,” she returned with a glass of water, “drink this, and then drink more, lots more until you never want to see water again.”

He sat up and chugged the water in one sitting. “You know, I have been drunk before. Just…not this much.”

She bounced back into bed. “And not on Bull’s drink. Oh, the first time we slayed a dragon, the next morning, I vowed never again.” She lightly booped the tip of his nose. “I’ll bet you were a riot last night, I wish I could have been there to see it.”

He reached out and took her hand, pulling her in and gathering her onto his chest. “I’m glad you weren’t. Something tells me it wasn’t my finest hour.” 

They stayed like that for a while, lazily tracing patterns on each other’s bodies and hearing nothing in the room but their breathing. Suddenly Cullen inhaled sharply, and Ingrid sat up.

“Oh no. Does it hurt?”

 “Yes – Maker, it’s excruciating,” he clamped his eyes shut, putting his hands over his eyes and sliding further down into the bed.

She was up in a flash, tying her dressing gown. “On it. I’ll be back with provisions. Herbs and greasy food should do the trick. And a lot more water.”

Cullen plopped a pillow over his face and groaned, desperately wishing he really  _was_  only drunk in love.


End file.
